


warmth

by viscrael



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Fluff, M/M, aged up ish, literally all just fluff, tsukkis an icicle constantly all the time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-05
Updated: 2016-02-05
Packaged: 2018-05-18 08:11:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5911141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/viscrael/pseuds/viscrael
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Are you cold, Tsukki?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	warmth

**Author's Note:**

> i managed to spit out 2 (two) Entire fics despite my writers block Hindering everything :')
> 
> listen.........i lov the hc of yamas skin always being rlly warm and tsukkis rlly cold. opposite bfs

It didn’t snow all that often, but Kei had vivid memories of the few times it did.

The whole world outside his window was bleached white, the glare from the snow making it difficult to look directly anywhere without squinting. In the morning, when it was the coldest and the snow was still fresh (no foot prints at all, a pure blanket), Akiteru would go outside with him, and they would play until they almost couldn’t feel their fingers.

Before they went out, though, their mother would peck over them, telling them to bundle up more, they needed more layers, maybe two pair of gloves would be best if they wanted to make snowballs—and while Akiteru fussed at her mother hen tendencies, Kei couldn’t help but later be glad that she had. He was susceptible to the cold, he’d realized early on; he got cold quicker than Akiteru, couldn’t stay out as long without his teeth chattering. It wasn’t a big deal, but he didn’t like it for the most part. It impended on them playing.

 

\--

 

Before he’d fully deemed touching a Bad Thing, Kei would get constant comments about his hands. When he brushed knuckles with someone while passing them a stack of papers, they would pull their hand back like they’d been burned and say something along the lines of, “Your hands are so _cold_!” as if they had never felt another person’s skin before.

Usually, he’d shrug, and agree. “Yeah.”

And then they’d get confused, because, “Why are they…?”

There was no answer to this. “They just are.” Some people were naturally better at retaining heat, he guessed, and he just wasn’t one of them.

 

\--

 

It wasn’t just his hands that were cold. In fact, most of him was, all the time. He very rarely got hot at all; he kind of enjoyed summer, if only because it was a change of pace, going from always needing at least two layers to needing barely one.

After touching was Bad, the only person who still commented, or had a chance to comment, on his temperature issues was Tadashi. Even after they’d been friends for quite literally years, he’d still frown when their shins brushed.

“You’re cold, Tsukki,” he said, and Kei wouldn’t always respond, because there wasn’t a very interesting or important response to that. Of course he was. When was he not?

Something in his face must’ve said that was what he was thinking, because Tadashi smiled and crossed his arms behind his back. “You’re always so cold, how can you deal with it?”

“It doesn’t bother me,” he said, which was half a truth.

“Mm.” Tadashi looked away, and they fell into pleasant silence.

 

\--

 

Tadashi tended to hum in approval if he didn’t have anything else to add but didn’t want the conversation to trail off awkwardly. Over the years, he’d gotten better at talking, knowing when to speak and when to listen, the right pauses to let the other party know he was engaged and interested, the right time to nod and smile and laugh at a funny story or a joke.

It was always odd to watch him interacting with other people smoothly; Kei still remembered the fumbling, anxious, teary-eyed boy he’d stood up for all those years ago.

If Kei had changed a lot from when he was eleven, Tadashi had changed a lot from when he was fifteen. People couldn’t seem to get enough of him now, in stark contrast of elementary and middle school. The freckles people used to make fun of him for where praised, now; Tadashi was good looking, and they only added to his odd, amiable charm.

Most of the first years were absolutely obsessed with him. They loved when he taught them receives and jump float serves, when he took time out of practice to help them as much as he could. He was a good teacher, Kei thought. His voice was one that made everyone want to do nothing else but listen to him, his humor sharp, his demeanor understanding. It just happened to help that he wasn’t sore on _any_ one’s eyes.

 

\--

 

Along with pretty, Tadashi was warm.

Not just his personality—although that seemed pretty warm now too. Physically, he was little less than a space heater, the perfect opposite of Kei. While Kei couldn’t wear _enough_ layers, Tadashi couldn’t wear less.

Kei used to use that as an excuse to break the Bad Things rule: touching was okay if it was Tadashi, because he was warm, and Kei would freeze his ass off if he didn’t. When they sat next to each other and Tadashi noticed how cold his feet were, he’d put his own on the blonde’s, dutifully ignoring the temperature difference to heat up his friend.

Kei was always grateful for this, and though he never explicitly said it, he was sure Tadashi knew anyway.

 

\--

 

“Are you cold, Tsukki?”

It wasn’t snowing (hadn’t all winter yet), but it was below freezing, and Tadashi, although not over-bundled like his friend was, looked perfectly okay in his green peacoat and black gloves and the knit hat Kei had gotten him for his birthday.

“I’m fine,” Kei said, shoving his hands in his pockets so the other wouldn’t see them shivering. He was wearing gloves, a hat, a sweater, a coat, pants, leggings _under_ the pants, and thick, fur-lined boots, and he was about to freeze to death.

“Liar,” Tadashi accused, but he was smiling. Before Kei could protest, the brunet had already reached into his pocket and grabbed his shivering hands and cupped them in his gloved ones.

He breathed on them to heat them up, and Kei didn’t want to admit that it was helping, but. Well.

“Yamaguchi,” he said, but it came out more mumbled, and he was glowering.

His best friend suppressed a smile, but he didn’t let go of Kei’s hand, and instead held it all the way up until they got inside.

 

\--

 

“Kei.”

The blonde forced himself to blink his eyes open. Without his glasses, he could make out the blurry image of his boyfriend laying down, facing him, and looking curious.

It took him a moment, but eventually he found enough energy to respond, “What?”

Tadashi smiled softly and pulled the blanket further over them. “You’re cold.”

“I always am.”

But that was only a half truth, because he certainly wasn’t now, with the other’s hands resting on the dip in his lower back and a bare knee sliding over his, rubbing the expanse of his calf in a way that was surprisingly soothing.

It was difficult to be anything at all but _warm_ when they were pressed chest to bare chest, tucked under a white comforter with sunlight flittering in between their partially drawn curtains. The rays cast a sluggish glow on them both, making their limbs heavy with the want to go back to sleep.

Tadashi snorted at the typical answer and pressed a swift kiss to Kei’s cheek. “I can heat you up if you want me to.”

There was no telling if that offer was innocent or not, but Kei would’ve been okay with either outcomes. He pulled Tadashi closer to him. “Let’s stay here first.”

“You like it here with me.”

Kei felt himself blush. “...Be quiet, Tadashi.”

He laughed, loud and genuine. “Sorry, Kei.”


End file.
